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| Memories of Home |
I think of them there in the twilight
When the night shades begin to fall,
Father and Mother in the dear, old home
That has known and sheltered us all.
The house seems quiet and lonely, now,
Since the children are grown and gone,
But the bees still hum in the orchard bloom,
And the birds sing the same sweet song.
The evening star hangs over the mountain,
The whippoorwill calls to its mate.
The rising moon makes a path of gold
On the shimmering blue of the lake.
The place is flooded with memories,
Memories of each sister and brother,
Memories and love that take us back
To our old home, and Father and Mother.
-- Geneva H. Williams |
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